Empire
by Olive Tree Hugger
Summary: Historia promised Ymir she would rebuild the empire her family had neglected, but not without her. Running the course of Historia's forty year rule, and where the Dancing Titan fit in. /Yumikuri/


**Historia promised Ymir she would rebuild the empire her family had neglected, but not without her. Running the course of Historia's forty year rule, and where the Dancing Titan fit in. **

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><p><strong>\\The Night Of Coronation\\<strong>

Three mournful chimes trilled against the cavernous walls of the castle.

With each chime, memories of the carnage and the aching hearts came surging back into the minds of the court's members.

The newly crowned queen stood with them, reliving her painful memories in the back of her mind, her vision occasionally going blurry. She just hoped her tears would go unnoticed by the others.

When the moment of silence was over, a small ripple of sighs stretched into quiet whispers, which then eventually became a thunderous burst of mingling and chatter. The noise was utterly deafening to the tiny queen, who reached over to brush her hand against that of her closest guard.

"Jean," she whispered meekly.

He nodded back to her and cleared his throat before stepping forward. In his freshly pressed royal uniform, Sir Jean Kirchstein announced, "Her Royal Majesty, Queen Historia, thanks you for attending this intimate ceremony and for pledging your allegiance to her when the wretched Walls were abolished, and when our lands were once again united."

A good number of people in the crowd cheered lovingly for Historia, while others were simply listening.

The queen was led away from the courtroom with a handful of servants and guards surrounding her. For her royal posse, they were certainly quiet. Good. That's all Historia wanted now.

When they reached the gates to the drawing room, the servants dispersed. The only ones to remain were the guards, all lined up stiffly and neatly. How it reminded her the Survey Corps.

The only one who spoke was Jean, who whispered loyally into her ear, "Your first few weeks will be spent in a smaller castle in Stohess until all the arrangements are made. With all the new hires, we need to be sure that everyone can be trusted."

Historia shook her head, replying, "Of course." Then she gestured towards the rest of them to leave.

When they'd gone, the queen and her trusted friend sighed. Jean took the time to speak freely, saying, "You really make these people happy, Historia."

Pale blue, tired eyes were cast down. "Do I?" She inquired sarcastically.

The brunette reached out to hold her shoulders in his gloved hands. "_Yes,_" he reassured her. "You're going to do a good job of taking back what was once humanity's."

Biting back her innermost fears, Historia squeezed his hand and pulled back. She truly hoped she would amount to something this time. After all, she made a promise a long time ago that she would, and she intended to keep that promise alive.

* * *

><p><strong>\\Six Months Later\\<strong>

It was early when Historia jolted awake in her bed. Very early. The window that she neglected to draw the curtains in front showed no signs of daybreak, not even a streak of purple in the black sky. The bedroom was bathed in darkness.

The young queen rolled over onto her right side, away from the window, and shivered. The castle was particularly drafty during the winter time, which made her all the more homesick. She hated being lonely in this humongous estate. Sure enough, she had her ladies in waiting, she had her guards and Jean, and occasionally Armin would pop in to say hello.

But in reality, Historia just felt numb.

She reached out to touch the empty half of her bed. Such divinely soft, silken sheets needed friendship, love, and white hot passion to imprint in their fabric. The blonde's tiny frame was too little an occupant. But sometimes, even a good cry or two helped fill that void.

Before the royal could indulge herself, she heard a faint creak coming from the door. It made her heart jump but Historia threw the covers over her face and pretended to be asleep. The delicate sound of feet skulking across the mason floor rang in her ears. As the footsteps grew closer, Historia wrestled with remaining hidden or revealing herself. Finally, the footsteps came to a halt, once they reached her head. She heard something being laid on the nightstand, most likely her water pitcher, and with that the footsteps began to retreat.

Somewhat relieved, Historia pulled the covers off of her face, when suddenly they were scuttling towards her. The queen barely had time to react before the person climbed onto her and began smothering her face with the other pillow.

First, the blonde screamed, kicked, and clawed with all her might. She struggled to breathe as the assassin pressed the pillow harder against her mouth. Soon, Historia grew dizzy and calmed down, laying back into the mattress like it was all a dream.

She heard a few heavy breaths escape her attacker. Gradually, the person pulled away and sat on their ankles, panting like an asthmatic horse during a race. They peeled the pillow off of the queen's face.

Historia took the opportunity to reach for the water pitcher and smash it against the person's skull. The porcelain object shattered in her hands, exploding into shards all over her bedspread, the floor, and quite possibly the brain of the assailant.

Either way, it killed her instantly.

That's what Jean explained to her the morning after.

"Her name was Oika," he said. "She was a kitchen maid who was overheard disclosing her plan to one of the stable boys. We have him in custody now."

Historia shook her head. "I'm just glad she wasn't close to me," the queen responded. "I don't want to think that I kill someone I loved."

Jean sighed, taking a seat beside Historia's bed. "You were brave, you know."

She nodded in acknowledgement. "I realize that," she said.

Afraid that the conversation would end in tears, Jean pulled out a long, brown envelope. The queen eyed it suspiciously.

"What is that?" She asked.

The guard proceeded to open it with a dim smile. "Remember six months ago when you asked me to look for leftover titans? Well, after weeks of scouring the lands we took back, the Survey Corps may have found something."

A hopeful, gentle smile graced the queen's face when Jean handed her the reports.

She read them carefully, and in doing so, her smile fell in degrees. Jean watched in horror as the royal finally folded the papers back together and placed them on the empty cushion.

"Y-your... Highness?" The man stuttered, sweat forming on his brow.

The queen clasped her hands together and said, "Your reports are thorough. There _are_ titans still wandering the outskirts of our homeland, but not close enough to keep us from expanding. In a few years we'll embark on a retrieval mission, once our population crisis comes to an end."

Jean quirked an eyebrow and inquired, "That's it? They went on a six week mission to count all the titans living in the area and all you can say is 'hey, maybe we can check on them later'? Twenty men were lost in one sweep!"

Historia furrowed her brows together and replied softly, "And we will mourn each and every last one. Their families will be rewarded for their sacrifices. Now please, I want to be alone."

It _was_ obvious she didn't want to talk anymore. Jean nodded wordlessly, collected his report, and stormed out of the room.

And there the queen sat, petrified by her own coldness. She realized she'd been alone all this time. Historia unfurled the bandages covering her scratches and made fists. The stretch of skin over muscle caused the scabs to itch and burn. She winced at the pain, but at least it was something. Suddenly, she was overcome with grief. She sent twenty men to their deaths for one titan. She made Jean relive one of his worst nightmares for one shot at finding her.

Slender fingers gripped the cushion she was sitting on and squeezed. Without warning, hot, thick tears streamed down Historia's face. And, for many years to come, the heartbroken sobs of the queen were the only sounds that room would hear.

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><p><strong>\\Ten Years Later\\<strong>

"Your Majesty, you seem distracted," Mikasa observed.

Historia blinked several times, turning to the Commander in shock. "I'm sorry," she replied. "It's been too long since I've gone outside."

"It's alright. Sometimes I still get cold when I think about going back out there," the woman replied.

Her horse whinnied underneath her and Mikasa reached over to scratch him behind his ears.

Surprised, the queen eyed Mikasa and asked, "Is it really still that bad?"

The Commander shook her head, her long black hair shaking with it. "No. The titans _are_ retreating. In fact, more and more seem to be avoiding us."

"So I've heard. But I hope a few of them stick around," Historia replied. "To keep us in check."

Mikasa gave the blonde a disgusted look.

At the sound of the troops rallying impatiently behind them, the Commander shot an arm into the air and shouted, "Begin!"

The thick iron gates ascended, the grinding of rust making the horses restless. But Historia was restless, too. When all hope seemed lost, Jean delivered a report to her weeks ago claiming that a hollow scream of "_Ymir-San!_" shook the very earth he'd been standing on. When he checked it out, he found nothing but an abandoned farm and some very scared livestock.

But it was something, at least.

The impressive Survey Corps and the queen ventured out for miles, camping for days, until they found the abandoned farm Jean had spoken of. Historia slid off her saddle first, sprinting right into the crumbling farmhouse.

She clawed her way through the boarded up door, despite Mikasa's shouts to slow down. Historia grew frustrated quickly, stepping a few feet back and delivering a solid kick into the structure. The structure fell off its hinges and Historia immediately burst into the room. She found a woman lying on the filthy ground, completely naked, and covered in deep cuts.

A pool of blood formed around her wrists.

Historia let a scream erupt from her throat. She dove to the woman's side and cradled her head in her arms. She pressed one hand against her dark, freckled cheek and whispered, "Ymir? Do you hear me?"

Mikasa and several more scouts looked in and watched as their queen hug the unconscious woman close to her breast.

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><p><strong>\\Eleven Years Later\\<strong>

Historia pulled the sheet up to her chin and blushed, mind still fuzzy and skin still hot. Ymir's soft, muscular arm was draped over her hips, the older woman's face pressed against the queen's shoulder.

It was worth the wait.

After the experts had their say, it was deduced that Ymir had undergone something tremendously difficult after she disappeared. It was so scathing that it stole away her ability to speak, and her ability to shift into her titan form, her self-inflicted cuts a telltale sign.

Truth be told, Historia was glad that Ymir was human again. There was a certain guilt that came with loving her, especially since she'd abandoned all protocol about her people's safety the second the woman came into view.

Still, when Historia peeked at her lover's face, and studied the shapely cheekbones, the rosy lips, the almond shaped eyes and the dark lashes that decorated them. When she watched Ymir's freckled chest rise and fall, the queen believed it was all worth it.

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><p><strong>\\Twenty Five Years Later\\<strong>

The Silver Jubilee dawned on Historia like a fog. The blonde had grown so attached to her plans to overtake the Red Subcontinent that she'd forgotten all about it until Ymir walked in holding a silver platter. She was dressed in a green and silver vest over a white blouse. Her long skirt slimmed her hips and reached her ankles. A wreath encircled the top of her head.

Historia glanced up and immediately smiled at the sight of her wife. She put down her pen and rushed to Ymir, pressing a kiss to the latter's cheek.

Smiling, the lady showed the queen the platter. A small, folded up paper sat in the center. Curiously, Historia plucked the paper from its perch and unfolded it. Ymir's hum told her that her wife didn't actually know what was on the paper, either.

The words muddled the queen's brain so badly that she felt dizzied.

Gasping, Ymir caught her wife before she fell to the floor, grimacing as the sound of the platter clanged against the ground. Historia gritted her teeth as she pressed her face against Ymir's chest, whispering, "The rebels massacred the entire council of Ehrmich. They've made threats to take their violence to the capital if I don't comply to their demands."

She felt her wife's strong hands tighten around her body and somehow, it made things a lot less worse.

At the twenty-five year anniversary celebration of Historia's ascent to the crown, the happy couple did not mention a word of the threat. They drank their wine, fed each other strawberry pie, and danced until their feet developed the most unholy of blisters. The queen and her lady were given a standing ovation for serving the people, building a peaceful empire that stretched for miles, and saving humanity from the brink of extinction.

Historia gave an eloquent speech to commemorate the deaths of some of humanity's most valuable warriors, the very people who helped her overthrow her family and start anew. The room had threatened to burst into tears right there. To lighten the mood, a song and dance routine was presented to the audience, depicting the fall of Shiganshina. After twenty five years, the shock had dulled. People didn't see titans as much of a threat now. Now they were deemed pests. Quickly removed if given the right materials. But only Historia and her wife had any knowledge of the titans coming back.

Only at the end when all the guests had gone home an most of the guards had been excused did Historia rally together her most trusted cavalries for a meeting in the underground tunnels underneath the castle.

When they were all assembled, Historia folded her arms behind her back and whispered, "I received a note this morning detailing the massacre of our friends in Ehrmich. Rebels coming from outside the country are to be blamed."

Jean growled, "And just when we thought those anti-human, self-hating fanatics were gotten rid of."

Mikasa seemed the least surprised, commenting, "There are plenty of them on the outskirts of the country. They never attacked us; now I see why they were repressing their strength. They needed to get to you, Historia."

The queen inhaled heavily and said, "They know I have a valuable asset, but I won't give it to them."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Armin's voice echoed from the end of the table. "You know what they want and why they want it. You could use it to fight fire with fire but we've only got one that we know of, they've got as many as their populations suggest."

Worry overwhelmed Historia and she started to pace around the dimly lit room. "My marriage isn't a pawn on the chess set" she said, voice breaking. "I refuse to give Ymir up."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jean huffed, "Then what are your plans?"

Bleary blue eyes glared daggers at the head guard. Historia took a shaky breath and let it escape, "I don't know yet."

The shadow of a towering figure hiding in the corridor went unseen by the queen and her advisers, instead bounding up the stone steps with tears in her eyes.

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><p><strong>\\Thirty Years Later\\<strong>

A calloused thumb rubbed the edge of the blade at Historia's neck. The stench of sweat, cigarettes and liquor stung the queen's eyes but she refused to blink. A snarky grin curved over his stubble-ridden face.

"I wish I could tell ya different, but yer precious _wife _ain't here. In fact, we haven't seen 'er for what, a few months? She came back with a brain chalk full of royal secrets," the man slurred. "In exchange, she wanted to be the new leader of the shifters. We told 'er ta scram. She knew by entering yer empire she was breakin' a major rule."

Historia was careful to turn her head, instead watching him in her peripheral vision. "You're a liar, Erzes. I know your kind worship special cases like Ymir. You kidnapped her when I wouldn't give in to your demands," she accused.

Erzes threw his head back and chuckled darkly, replying, "If you haven't already checked, _queenie,_ Ymir is damaged goods. She can't even transform anymore. She's useless to us. Did ya ever think that maybe she didn't wanna be found?"

Repelled by his stupid assumptions, the queen seethed, "I don't believe a word you're saying."

A gust of cigarette smoke clouded her vision as Erzes smoked one in front of her. He tugged playfully on the ropes encircling her torso, keeping her contained. "Have ya thought about our proposals yet?"

Historia spat in his eye.

The man wiped his face clean and glared murderously at her, threatening, "That's it, ya wretched little dyke. Prepare to choke on yer own blood!"

As he thrust his knife towards Historia's throat, she tipped her chair over and braced herself for a harsh landing. Once she was on the ground, she sent Erzes flying with a sharp kick to his knees. The blade dropped to the ground and she dove for it, catching it in her lips.

The gangster started for her, but was quickly put to a stop when Mikasa drove her blade clean through his brain from behind. When he stopped moving, the Commander clicked her blade off and replaced the blade, watching as the man's body fell to the ground. "They've become real filth. It's almost a pity."

She strode over to Historia and sliced through the ropes, asking, "Are you alright, your Highness?"

The blonde nodded and spit the blade from her mouth, asking, "And everyone else?"

Mikasa sighed, "Outside, waiting, We slaughtered every rat in this place, but there's no sign of Ymir. I'm sorry."

Having just faced death, Historia grew angry and retorted, "Then we look more! Where haven't we checked? There's Utgard and Yalkel and we barely skimmed over the Forest."

Gray eyes filled with regret, Mikasa put a hand on the royal's shoulder, saying, "Have you thought about the possibility, though?"

"What possibility?"

"That Ymir really did leave of her own accord," came the response.

Tears of rage overflowed Historia's face, and she demanded, "How could you say that? Ymir loves me, and I her!"

Mikasa sighed, "I never said she didn't. All I'm saying is maybe she held a seed of responsibility for the deaths in Ehrmich."

The queen hurriedly wiped her cheeks and stood up. "Maybe. But either way, Ymir _will_ be found, and she _will_ be brought home safely."

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><p><strong>\\Thirty Five Years Later\\<strong>

"A scarf."

"That's all that was left."

A _scarf._

Mikasa had come to Historia with the relic, smelling of burning wood and rum. The queen carefully touched the fabric, gently skimming a finger over it before eventually holding it up to her nose and breathing in the scent. Before she could finish inhaling, a broken sob tore through her lungs. The Commander watched as Historia wailed in agony over her lost wife.

Slowly, the woman approached the queen and gathered her into her arms. "I'm so sorry, your Majesty. I'm so terribly sorry," she confessed.

The blonde hiccuped, "...H-h-how? How did she...d-die?"

The commander pulled away, explaining, "We found a campsite for some fortune tellers riding in caravans. We were only passing through when a fight broke out between two of the local boys. One way or another, they knocked over a few lanterns and everything caught ablaze. We hurried to rescue as many people as we could, but when I spotted one woman climbing onto a caravan, I tried to stop her. The caravan was flaming. Instead, she turned to me, gave me a guilty look, and rode the caravan right into their rum supply. The whole thing went up in flames. It would have been painless for her."

Moaning miserably, Historia cupped her mouth and sank into her armchair. "And you're sure it was Ymir?"

"There was an uncanny resemblance," Mikasa responded flatly.

With the shirt curled together in her hands, the queen stopped hyperventilating long enough to say, "I'd really hoped that Ymir had been kidnapped. I told myself she'd never leave me behind. But she left so she could become their leader again, and I think she was going to turn them around. Reform them into productive members of humanity. But they shunned her because she wasn't a titan anymore."

Eyeing the wretched fabric, the Commander replied, "That's why we shunned her, I believe. During the mission to retrieve Eren from Bertolt and Reiner, we let her go because she was also a titan. Eren was special...to us at least. It's almost ironic."

The queen nodded wordlessly and softly responded, "I think I need to lie down."

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><p><strong>\\Forty Years Later\\<strong>

Numbness became Historia's most recognized sensation. Even on her deathbed, after an atrocious disease swept through the castle and left twenty percent of the population dead, the queen didn't feel anything. Dried blood coated her chin where it'd dribbled down from her lower lip. A young nurse wiped her forehead with a moist towel, whispering kind words to Historia.

The queen asked for her most trusted knight. Jean drudged in, a bum leg dragging behind him, his once lively brown locks now peppered with gray.

"Your Majesty," he murmured, curling his fingers around Historia's. "I'm here."

Slowly, Historia opened her dulling eyes and stared blindly at the ceiling. A grating, ugly noise escaped from her chest. Jean realized that it was the queen's voice.

_"J-Jeannn...t-there will b-be an...a-an uprising...after I...I die. I-I w-want some...someone good to-to t-take the throne," _she rasped. _"T-take m-m-y...my place. Be a good king...for me. Remember...remember what we stood for. E-eren, Han-hanji, C-Comm-commander Smith...they died f-for us..."_

Tears sprung from Jean's eyes and he whispered, "What makes you sure I'll be a good ruler?"

The queen replied sadly, _"You know...wh-what it takes...you...feel...f-f-for them..."_

Warmth enveloped the dying woman, shades of orange and red shining intensely on either side of her. A shadow stood not too far away from Historia's bed. As it stepped closer, the queen smiled and breathed, "Ymir..."

Suddenly, the queen's grip on on Jean's hand slacked. He gasped, leaning forward to look into her Majesty's lifeless, empty stare. He squeezed her hand one more time before letting go.

"Goodbye, Historia."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: And cue ugly sobbing! This was difficult to write, seeing as I didn't know how SNK politics really work. Can Historia just abdicate the throne? Maybe. I don't know if this could be considered canon, seeing as the Survey Corps is in charge now, not Historia Reiss as queen. But we'll pretend for my sake.<strong>

**Some of you might say, "Man, Ymir and Historia are so ooc here!" Just check the wiki page. Isayama even explained that Ymir was extremely emotional on the inside despite her tough exterior and Historia was empty, lonely and dry on the inside, the sweet, lovable Krista being a mask.**

**Anyways, I'm tired. I think I'll nap before work. Please review and shoot me a message if you have prompts/concerns/ just wanna talk. Bye!**


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